Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
ElizaBeth: The possibility of ankle-grabbing monsters being under my bed. Thunderstorms. Loneliness. Believing in happily ever afters but getting my heart broken. Kombucha. Worst-case scenarios. Getting stuck while driving through a tunnel. The Seven Mile Bridge.
I hold my breath and wait for him to respond, and I just about fall off my mattress when his next message humors me rather than calling me out on avoidance.
ThunderStruck: Tofu?
ElizaBeth: Is it cheese? Is it milk? Is it a weird blob of white stuff that comes from an animal’s genitals? I don’t know what it is, and that’s scary.
ThunderStruck: It’s milk. Soya milk. That’s been curdled.
ElizaBeth: Curdled milk? Ew. See? Scary! Thanks a lot, Beau.
ThunderStruck: Ha. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I guess I shouldn’t ask about the kombucha then, huh?
ElizaBeth: NO.
ThunderStruck: And what about the ankle-grabbing monsters?
ElizaBeth: Look, I can’t prove they’re real, but I CAN feel their presence. It’s an intuition thing.
ThunderStruck: Savages.
I know instantly he’s referring to the last note I left on his desk three days ago.
ElizaBeth: You figured out the movie.
ThunderStruck: Without Google.
ElizaBeth: I’m impressed.
And terrified. I let things go for so long that he actually got it, and now, he’s going to be relentless in going after his reward. Meeting me. In person.
ThunderStruck: I was hoping you would be.
ElizaBeth: You want to impress me, Beau Banks?
ThunderStruck: I want to do a lot of things with you.
My cheeks heat with the arousal that sits heavy within his words. Knowing he wants me, knowing he’s right next door…it makes me feel things.
And the June who always holds back is telling me to leave the chat, throw my phone across my bedroom, and hide under my comforter. But she’s not the one running the ship tonight. We’re too far out to sea for that.
ElizaBeth: Like what?
ThunderStruck: Meet you, for one.
ElizaBeth: And when you meet me?
ThunderStruck: Look into your eyes. I need to know what color they are.
ElizaBeth: And when you look into my eyes?
ThunderStruck: I imagine I won’t be able to stop myself from looking at your mouth. I want to see it move when you speak. Want to know if your lips are soft and plush. Want to know what they taste like.
Without even thinking, my fingers move to my lips, just barely skimming across the warm flesh.
ThunderStruck: I wouldn’t be able to resist kissing you.
Beau kissing me. It’s something I’ve dreamed and fantasized about a million and one times.
ElizaBeth: I think I’d kiss you back.
ThunderStruck: You think, or you know?
Who am I kidding?
ElizaBeth: I know.
ThunderStruck: I’d kiss you soft at first. Just a little brush of my lips against yours. But when that’s not enough, I’d kiss you deeper, slide my tongue past your lips and find out what you taste like. I’d kiss you long. Long enough to breathe in your moans.
ElizaBeth: The mere idea of that is…
ThunderStruck: Is…?
ElizaBeth: It’s a little embarrassing to admit…
ThunderStruck: Tell me.
ElizaBeth: It’s intoxicating. I have goose bumps. My nipples are hard. And I feel…a delicious throb…deep inside me…
ThunderStruck: I need you to slide your hand over your breasts and tell me if you can feel your nipples beneath your clothes.
I pause, reading his words while my face flames with fire again. But it doesn’t take long before I’m doing what he asks. Hesitantly, I lift my left hand and brush it over my breasts, feeling my soft curves.
ElizaBeth: I can feel my nipples, but there aren’t any clothes. I’m still naked from my shower. All but my panties.
ThunderStruck: Fuck.
ThunderStruck: Move your hand down your belly now and just barely slip your fingers under your panties.
I follow his command.
ThunderStruck: How do you feel now?
I don’t know what comes over me, but I take a picture, just like that, with my hand just barely inside my panties. And I send it to him. I hardly even recognize myself. The picture is so sexy.
ElizaBeth: Like I want to keep moving my hand down.
My breaths are already starting to feel uneven, my breasts moving up and down in heavy waves, and I’m waiting. Waiting to see what he says next.
And I swear, I hear the faintest “Fuck me” come through the wall behind me.
Holy hell. I don’t know why it’s so hot to think about him being right there, as close as he can possibly be without being in my bedroom. But it is. It’s the most arousing thing I’ve felt in a long time. Maybe forever.
ThunderStruck: You’re beautiful. Everything about you is so fucking beautiful, and I’ve barely seen anything at all. Just thinking about what it would feel like to replace that hand of yours with mine has my cock so hard.
ElizaBeth: I want to see it. I need to see it.
A few moments later, a new picture appears in the chat. It’s Beau’s muscular body with a pair of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs still covering him. But it doesn’t conceal his truth. He’s hard. He’s hard and he’s big. Bigger than my brain had imagined he’d be.